


A True Reflection of You (and I)

by hoopdedoop



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoopdedoop/pseuds/hoopdedoop
Summary: Faced with a strange predicament, Miko comes seeking Byakuren's advice. Crossing waters cause roaring feelings. As the year draws to an end, their relationship culminates in something neither of them saw coming; though perhaps, it was inevitable from the start.
Relationships: Hijiri Byakuren/Toyosatomimi no Miko
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A belated Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all of you, but especially to one Sansinger! I'm your secret santa this year!!
> 
> Wow, I was super happy to get this prompt, even if I sure did struggle to get started on it because gee, I love Hijimiko but hmm, how to make it fluffy, as stated in the wishlist? I pondered and came up with this scenario. Now, this three part story starts out a bit chilly... but it gets fluffier towards the end, I promise!
> 
> All chapters are done so I will be positing them leading up to new years! ;)

Under clear skies, the temperatures quickly drop far below freezing. Smoke and ash carries on the ice cold wind; about the only things to be smelled beyond the wet stitches of the thick scarf around her neck. Miko enjoys walking the roads of the village unattended, on her own. The sights are hardly astonishing, but the lives of common folk amuse her to an extent. Today, she walks past them all without nary a glance. Heavy carts, pulled by horse and human alike, roll over the frozen dirt, drawing layers of lines in the snow that has kept piling in the past weeks. There's little fresh produce to be sold, and the few specks of color to be seen in the market place are limited to the reds and pale blues of fish scales or the rarer orange or yellows of citrus fruits. Miko keeps walking. She changes her route.

The gate to the temple is not unattended. The yamabiko is clearing the path of snow with a shovel, her face tilted downwards, eyes on the ground. Her short stature and short arms aside, she's working effectively, absorbed. Miko passes her, her walking speed high. When Kyouko tears her head up, it's already too late. Miko is already inside the temple grounds, walking briskly. Kyouko stares at her back, mouth agape. She trips towards the outer wall, peering at her from behind cover. If she can just pretend she didn't notice, maybe she won't get in trouble. Miko climbs the stairs, step by step, Kyouko's gaze rising along with her ascent. 

"Hello?" Miko announces her presence to the empty courtyard, high-strung and tense with irritation before she's had any chance to be let down or turned away. "I've come to have a word with Hijiri." There is no reply. Her words echo with dull reverb between the snow covered walls. A moment passes. Miko can hear the faint sounds from inside, faint like a resting heartbeat, simply a notion of life. _"Hello?"_ She repeats, louder and clearer. "This is quite the welcome, I'll tell you." Kyouko continues to hide behind the wall, frozen in place.

Footsteps emerge among the halls, slow but approaching. Miko waits, already souring. A door slides open on the side of the wall, out of sight. With a thick blanket over her shoulders, and her robe double-layered, its edges grazing the ground, Ichirin appears from behind the corner. She leans against the wall. "Hey, sorry. Good day. Did you need anything?" She crosses her arms, visibly tired.

"I've come to speak to Hijiri," Miko says, unhappy to repeat herself.

"Sorry, but she's not in today…" Ichirin yawns into her hand.

"Oh?" Miko wonders, and realizes she shouldn't be surprised. "Huh. How convenient for you." Ichirin doesn't appear to be listening. "Why, where has she headed?"

"Go back where you came. Follow the river up the mountain. You should be able to find her." Ichirin says, waving Miko away. "Good luck." She smiles; a pleased grin. "And good day to you, too."

Miko looks at her. She nods and says nothing more. She turns around, flipping her cape, and walks back down the stairs. Kyouko stays in hiding until she's disappeared down the road.

The snow has fallen thickly on the mountain. With her feet above ground, level with the higher branches on the old, tall trees, Miko travels through the wilderness. She enjoys the few faint scents which remain in the cold; pine, wood and earth. Her scarf and cape flow between the narrow spaces of the trunks and branches effortlessly, like how the water flows and jumps below, rushing past the rocks and forming itself after the carved basin of the river. Birds sing in the distance. Miko listens to the flow of the water, its gushing like a constant, shivering roar. Her sensitive ears hear the waterfalls up above. She's passed more than one, the high drops of the mountain posing no issue. The river is narrow in these parts; narrow and fragmented. She knows that the kappa live further up, and she rather not run into any of them, though she suspects Byakuren has had the same line of thought.

She casts her eyes around. There are no tracks or trails in the snow, other than that of animals. Surely, Byakuren wouldn't leave a trail, either. She hears one waterfall ahead, and yet another one just above. It comes into sight between the trees, and she sees fish shimmering by the surface, poking at the ripples left by water droplets in search of nibbles of food. Miko flies up past the cliff, and the next waterfall becomes visible in the small clearing up ahead. While listening closely, Miko has been searching for Byakuren; trying to hear her footsteps or the wind forming around the shape of her body. She hears no such thing, no movement among the trees beyond her own, beside that of small, tweeting birds or a scuttering squirrel. The thinning streams trickle past the edge and down the cliff, sputtering, droplets flying. Between the trees, the stream broadens into a pond, shallow and clear, waters pristine, only a few flakes of ice shifting across the surface.

Miko sees a spot of color before all else. Robes white, long, thick and beyond drenched, it is not the wind which shapes itself around Byakuren's body, but the water in the stream that comes down hard on her head and shoulders under the waterfall. Legs folded under her on the hard rock bottom of the pond, water smattering all around her as she sits with her eyes closed and hands folded in her lap.

Miko lands on the ground, softly and nearly soundlessly over the sound of the loudly rushing water. Tossing her scarf over her shoulder and adjusting her collar, Miko walks alongside the pond. Byakuren's face is obscured by the rushing water, like a translucent layer over her features, catching the rays of the sun. The thick and sturdy fabric of her robes plastered to her skin, Byakuren's hair lays similarly heavy and flat with water, the vibrant purple color of her hair darkened into a deeper hue and the brown blackened into an ashen, earthy shade. Miko clears her throat, but the sound doesn't carry far. Byakuren's eyes remain shut. Miko wonders, because surely Byakuren can sense her presence. She would rather nor clear her throat again just to be ignored, something which seems inevitable. She watches Byakuren for a short moment, her impatience growing. "Hijiri." She says, projecting her voice. "I've come to speak to you."

Byakuren's face seems to tip forward, the water gushing down onto her chest. She raises one hand, pushing her heavy wet hair out of her face. Slowly, she rises, coming to a standing without as much as the slightest waver. With a single step, she steps out of the waterfall, and opens her eyes, eyelashes heavy with large, shining droplets. She looks at Miko with the faintest of disdain. "Hello, Miss Miko." She folds her wet sleeve against her body and gives her a short nod. "Why, you must have come to speak to me regarding some matter of great importance… all things considered."

Miko looks at her unassumingly. "Do you mind?" She asks, smiling.

"I suppose not." Byakuren says, strained yet polite. She gathers her hair in her hands and squeezes, wringing the water out of her long strands, now curlier than Miko is used to seeing it when dry. "I assume you… value my time enough not to waste it."

"Oh, naturally." Miko says confidently.

Byakuren strides through the shallow water and the fish scatter. It rushes between her ankles. Miko sees where her clothes hang, folded properly over a tree branch on the other side. From under her hanging robes, Byakuren she reaches for a towel. Still standing in the water, she dries her hair. Miko stares at her back. "So, what is that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Oh, it's an embarrassing thing, really." Miko says, dismissively. "Hence why I thought you might be able to help me."

Byakuren wringes her hair tight, tight in her hands, the last few droplets hitting the surface of the pond. She uses the towel to dry her hair, rubbing it together between her hands. "How forward of you, Miss Miko." She says, turning slowly to glance at her.

"Yeah, yeah." Miko reluctantly agrees.

Byakuren turns back around. When Miko sees her undo her robe in the front, she turns the other way, facing the snow-laden forest. "What is it, then?" Byakuren asks, faintly impatient.

Miko stares at the scenery. Between the trunks of the trees she sees the edge to the drop below. Beyond that, she sees the slant of the mountain side, the steep slopes and the snake-like form of the river. "Oh, you see… it's about Futo."

"Oh. Is something amiss with Miss Futo?" Byakuren asks and Miko hears clearly the rustle of fabric as Byakuren dries her skin.

"You could say." Miko complains. "She is not herself. She is slow to wake in the mornings. She's duller than usual. And she seems to sigh and moan about the slightest thing."

"Oh dear. That does sound quite unlike her…" Byakuren comments, a little less concerned than her words might imply.

"Yes. It's rather troubling." Miko hears Byakuren slide her robes off the tree branch to dress herself. "Most all because I cannot seem to figure why."

"I'm surprised. You of all people, unable to understand the people near you."

Miko scoffs. "Hence my embarrassment. Can you imagine?"

"Did you try speaking to her?"

Miko hesitates. She hears Byakuren fit her flowing petticoat dress over her head as she steps out of the water. "No. I couldn't possibly know what to say to her."

"How else will you know what she's thinking? Or are you saying you're too proud to ask even Miss Futo her thoughts and feelings?" Byakuren fits her kimono over her dress, the heavy fabric shielding her skin and the edges grazing the snow.

"I didn't come here to be lectured."

"Then why did you come?"

"I want advice."

"Advice on how to speak to Miss Futo?" Byakuren asks, infuriatingly calm and collected. She ties the ribbon on her belt and reaches to pull her kesa out of the tree.

Miko turns around snappily. "No," she says, defensively. "I want advice on… how to figure out why she's acting the way she is."

Byakuren looks at her strangely. "And you believe me to know?" She asks sincerely.

"You preach. And you hold your sermons…"

"So do you."

"Perhaps…" Miko admits, shamelessly. "Though evidently… I cannot figure what to do in this case. So… I am reaching out to you. To hear your thoughts. From one... preacher to another."

"How humble of you." Byakuren says, and there's an odd honesty in her distant tone.

Miko takes the compliment but ignores to comment on it. "I thought you might figure what goes through… a simpler mind."

Byakuren slips the kesa over her shoulders. She smiles faintly. "I suppose I could lend you an ear."

They walk side by side on the narrow path under the clear skies. Together they carve their way through the light and fresh snow on the cliffs. The sun is still high in the sky and the air only feels fresher. "Perhaps she is feeling lonely, or isolated. What would you say about that?"

"Sounds unlikely. She's surrounded by people nonstop." Miko retorts. Her slow but steady steps kick up snowflakes off the ground. "I doubt she's… lonely."

"She might feel alone, regardless. If she feels that there are no meaningful conversations to be had, nor connections to be made, or if she feels… divorced from her surroundings."

Miko ponders. "I suppose it's possible. Though rather unlikely."

"Why would you say that?" Byakuren's hair was still wet, ice crystals forming and glittering in the sun.

Miko sighs. "She was fine until recently. And nothing has really changed. Which is why I'd say it's unlikely."

"Well, I imagine there are more variables than either of us may realize." Byakuren was clearly questioning her abilities, and Miko could hear it loud and clear. She still decided to think before speaking.

"You have a point." She admits, and Byakuren turns to look at her. Tall, dark tree trunks stand all around, below and above, and the path slowly lowers them downwards into the foliage.

"How rare, for you to admit to an oversight." Byakuren says, smiling.

Miko sighs. "The oversight has already happened. I'm not so prideful I cannot see that. That's nothing but foolish."

"That is very true. How commendable of you, though."

"Ah, don't you start complimenting me, now." Miko says, though she smiles. In the serene stillness of the forest a bird sings in the distance.

"Oh, and now you won't accept a compliment either. You must really be worried."

"I don't know if I'd go that far…" Miko admits. "But I am quite… perplexed, I'd say."

"I understand." Byakuren says mildly. Miko feels fleetingly accomplished. "In regards to Miss Futo's… issues, would you consider that maybe she's… had some bad experience lately? Maybe an argument with someone or something else that may have happened to affect her mood?"

"None that I'm aware of." Miko says, trying to think back and reflect. "Things have been rather quiet if anything."

"Oh! Maybe she's bored?" Byakuren asks, laughing lightly.

Miko laughs, too. "That's certainly a possibility!"

Their laughter simmers between the trees. It fades. Byakuren's suggestions are each and every single one considered by Miko, but she remains ponderous and questioning, though their discussion grows increasingly deep and engaged.

Evening falls. Her hair still stiff, though clean, Byakuren combs through it all to keep it from tangling before bed. Ichirin peers into her quarters past curfew, but Byakuren is in a good mood, and hardly thinks of it. They speak of the preparations for new year's eve. Ichirin has some ideas and Byakuren listens and opts to consider. As Ichirin gets up to leave, Byakuren sets her comb aside on her study, and yet again the conversations she's had with Miko that morning phases into her mind. "You are rather… friendly with Miss Futo these days, aren't you, Ichirin?" Byakuren asks her, and Ichirin freezes under the door frame.

"We see each other around," she admits nervously. "Why?"

"When I was speaking with Miss Miko this morning she said something rather curious."

"She did, huh?" Ichirin isn't surprised.

"She said Miss Futo seemed like she'd been down lately. As if she'd been unlike herself. Have you noticed anything like that?" Byakuren asks, carefully phrasing her questions.

"Uh," Ichirin hesitates so sincerely, Byakuren discards any possibility of her lying. "No? She's been really perky lately if anything. Like, as gung-ho as ever. How she's always like, you know?" She smiles, but Byakuren recognizes her confusion.

"Hm." Byakuren sees Ichirin watch her own confusion in return. "I see." She replies, simply.

"Yeah, I really don't know why she'd say that. Though, I mean, it's not like I'm around her _all_ the time..."

"Yes. Of course." Byakuren says, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Sorry to bother you so late. Goodnight now, Lady Hijiri."

"Goodnight, Ichirin. Sleep well." Byakuren bids her goodnight with a kind smile on her face. Her room is chilly and her bedding takes time to absorb her body heat. While waiting for sleep, Byakuren wonders, retracing the many turns of her conversation with Miko that day, drawing an image of her face in her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Crosslegged in the sermon hall, Shou is preoccupied, reading from a scroll. Next to her, Nazrin sits down, turning up the light on the oil lantern on the floor. She minds the distance between the scrolls they've gathered and the flame. This is how Byakuren finds them after returning to the temple after her morning training. When she sits with them, she feels a faint discomfort rising amongst them. "How are things going?" She asks, carefully optimistic.

Nazrin says nothing. She looks at Shou who raises her eyes hesitantly from the text. "Rather well. I thought I should take… more material from our collection into account."

"I understand." Byakuren says. "I had an idea for a sermon. I thought to write it myself, but… now that you've… started, then…"

There's a slight though visible discomfort on Shou's face. She tries to smile through it. "I'd love to hear your ideas. I was hoping to go for something more… traditional this time around."

"This year, master thought to shine light on the temple's long history of resilience in the face of adversary." Nasrin adds, on her own accord. "It has been in the works. I'm sure you'll be… proud to see the final results. A New Year's sermon that uses material from his very temple, and ties directly to its history and our very own feats to overcome hardships over the course of many centuries."

"You've certainly thought about this, haven't you, Shou?" Byakuren says, impressed, yet curious.

"I have… indeed tried."

"Oh, she has." Nazrin says, tiredly.

"Let me know if you need any help." Byakuren offers.

"Certainly, Hijiri." Shou accepts with thinly veiled hesitation and unease.

Unhappy, Byakuren can still only smile in response. Then, they all hear voices outside. "You again? You keep stopping by lately, huh? I guess you don't have anything better to do…" Ichirin says, amused.

"I've come to speak to Hijiri, not you." Miko's familiar voice replies, reserved.

Byakuren stands from her seat, approaching the font yard, exiting through the main entrance. Miko stands by the gates, not passing Ichirin who's sweeping the ground before the staircase, ridding it off stray snowflakes kicked up by the wind. "I mean, I assumed..." Ichirin comments, and quite lightheartedly so, but Miko looks at her disdainfully.

"Miss Miko," Byakuren acknowledges her kindly, appearing in the open doorway. "You've visited yet again."

"Yes," Miko admits to the undeniable truth. "Indeed. I was hoping you might entertain me." She smiles. "How about a duel? It's been quite some time, and I rather you didn't grow dull on me."

Byakuren laughs a pouring laugh. "Oh. I see. I'd love to, but…"

"No, _no."_ Ichirin rejects the idea. "I just got the place cleaned. I can't have you getting snow all over the yard again."

"Now, is that really for you to decide?" Miko questions her haughtily. "You're not the one who calls the shots around here, are you?" 

Ichirin crosses her arms. She ignores Miko, turns to Byakuren and addresses her instead. "Come on. We're having lunch soon anyway. You can't be skipping meals, you know? The captain I'll be upset, too."

Byakuren realizes she's completely forgotten. "Oh. Well, I…" She looks at Miko, who returns her gaze fiercely; an unyielding request for her undivided attention. She ponders, though she's aware she's already exhausted her excuses. Ichirin isn't going to forgive her easily this time. "It's rude to say no to a guest who's come all this way to see me, wouldn't you say?" She bargains.

"She's here all the time. She can wait a bit, anyhow. Lunch won't take long."

Miko is displeased with the disagreement. Byakuren is displeased with it too, at heart, though for a different reason. "If this is about lunch, why, I'll take Hijiri somewhere and make sure she eats. Then we'll duel. Somewhere where we'll be a bother to anyone but you. How about that?" Miko flicks her cape as she gestures at Byakuren.

Ichirin, now again sweeping the ground, looks at Miko and then back at Byakuren. "Sure," she says, agreeable. "That sounds good to me."

Miko frowns, suspicious. Ichirin went along with that rather easily. Smiling, Byakuren takes off back inside the temple. "I'll get my robe and I'll be right with you!"

They were seated on the upper floor in the restaurant, one of the larger establishments in the village. Byakuren had ordered a dried mushroom fry with pickles, beans, rice and miso soup with tofu. Miko had ordered grilled fresh fish, served whole, garnished with horseradish, with a side of fried rice with cured pork bits. She'd also ordered a small jar of sake, and as their food was brought to the table, at their seats on the floor by the window, Byakuren took a good long look at Miko's order but said nothing.

"You sure seem preoccupied these days, leading up to the holidays. Likely because you are." Miko makes a rightful assumption.

"Indeed. Even though I'm not even in charge of the celebration this year." Byakuren says, pinching the stem of a mushroom between her chopsticks.

"Oh. Huh. Really?" Miko pours and sips her sake. "Really now." She repeats, as if her astonishment was not clear enough. "Who's in charge then, if not you?" 

"Shou is. She's doing quite splendidly. She's taking it very seriously. She also has Nazrin supporting her, so frankly I am not worried in the slightest." Byakuren says proudly.

"Well, I hope you are right." Miko says.

"I have done what I can to offer my advice and help with the planning." Byakuren drinks some soup. It's warm steam hits her face. The light but pleasant texture compliments the savory and rich taste of the miso. "They've insisted, if anything, that I don't involve myself this year.

Crosslegged, contrasting to Byakuren's proper seiza, Miko leans forward, scrutinizing expression on her face. "Huh. And that's alright with you?" 

"I'll admit I'm not quite used to it." 

Miko scoffs. "Just watch out. They might be planning mutiny."

Byakuren's lips form a lighthearted smile. She laughs. "Oh, oh no. I really don't think so."

Miko does evidently not find it funny. "How can you be certain?" 

"Why, I know them. If they were trying to infringe on my authority I would know."

"Huh." Miko tries to sound disinterested.

"Why, unlike you who couldn't even tell why Miss Futo was unlike herself."

Miko straightens herself in her seat, and looks sharply at Byakuren. "I know Futo. I've known her since she was a child. And ever since she's hardly changed."

"So, perhaps you lied, then." Byakuren suggests, tone falsely lighthearted.

Miko frowns, her grip on the sake cup tightening. She forces a smile, laughing. "Don't be absurd, now. Truly, you make the most outlandish claims, Hijiri." Miko sets the cup down hard. "It's quite interesting that you of all people would accuse me of lying. After all, your whole image is nothing but a mirage. Just a mask you wear." Byakuren listens. "Why, you smile at me and indulge me, speak to me and even cooperate with me, but in reality you loathe me, don't you?" Miko pours more alcohol into her cup. "You hide it well. But I can tell."

"You're right I wear a mask. I'm a public figure." Byakuren admits, her voice level and perfectly calm. She carefully watches Miko's tense expression. "I'm a religious authority and many see me as a role model. I'm a servant of the masses. I'm held to a higher standard, and I know what happens if people find reason to criticize me." Miko knows too, of the past. Byakuren has lost many years to persecution. "And even disregarding that, in order to lead others to a better place, I must act as an example, even if I may... curate my image." Miko has heard it all before and Byakuren recognizes the frustration, irritation and the anger that starts to rise under the surface. "Though, I do not loathe you. So on that account… you are mistaken."

"Whatever you say," Miko says dully, unlike herself. She hasn't eaten much. She drinks another mouthful from her cup.

"I do quite like you, Miss Miko. Why, I find you admirable. You've adjusted so well to life here. You are wise to the old ways but your way of thinking is rather… youthful." Byakuren chooses her words with care. "You've lost many years, too. And you've faced your own adversaries. And yet, you have such a zest for life."

Miko sets her cup down once more. It hits the wooden table with dull resonance. The sitting room is nearly empty. Outside, the sky is white, and cold seeps in from beyond the thin windows. Sliding her chin into her hand, leaning her elbow on the table, Miko lets out a silent, near inaudible sigh. "Do I?" 

Byakuren's shoulders sink. She looks at Miko's nearly untouched food. Miko rubs her brow with her other hand, slumping in her seat. Faint but growing; accumulating is Byakuren's sense of alarm and discomfort. She recalls their conversation about Futo, held side by side on the mountain trail. "Don't you?" Byakuren asks kindly.

"I don't know." Miko admits with troubling earnesty. "Do I seem that way to you?" She raises her head, her pointed expression muddled with flickering doubts.

"You seem like… your usual self…" Byakuren hesitates to say anything more, questioning her own judgement.

"I don't feel like myself." Miko turns her heavy head and gazes out the window. "I feel... bored with everything. And yet, nothing's changed." She sets her fist down on the table. "Bah. Or perhaps it is because nothing's changed that I'm bored. I'm bored out of my mind. It's starting to make me go crazy." Though dampened her outburst is nothing but sincere.

"That's concerning." Byakuren quietly says, troubled, yet apprehended by Miko's transparency.

It's started to snow again, though faintly. The snowflakes are small, slim, like shards of glittering ice. "Why, I enjoy our talks. Our duels. I don't feel quite as bored, then. We only ever fight. But at least that makes it interesting, even if it frustrates me." She scoffs once more. "All you do is put on an act, anyhow. Perhaps that's why I can't get it out of my mind."

"I find it interesting that you accuse me of putting on an act. You've had more than a few smokescreens in your life yourself if I recall." Byakuren says, her heart beating heavier for reasons she tries not to consider. It is indeed ironic. Miko looks up at her and her expression is anything but lively.

"Fair." She agrees, unlike herself. She has more to drink, the sake rippling as it pours into the cup. "We've both heard it all before." She appears to tire. "We've both played our parts, over and over. There has got to be something more." She downs her cup in one fast gulp. "Something other than prayer, politics… curtain fire." Miko stares into her empty cup. "Or the roles which we play."

"We are quite alike, you and I." Byakuren says in the lingering silence and Miko winces with a terrible grimace. It makes Byakuren laugh, more so as the recognition of her statement, her knowledge and disdain for what they both know to be the truth, displays on Miko's face clear as day, her mask discarded. Byakuren laughs louder, and it is a clear, and rippling, pouring sound. Miko presses her lips tight together, and once she gets over herself, she smiles, too, awkwardly. "Why," Byakuren gazes at her childlike expression, speaking once her laughter has diminished. "I've thought the same many times. I feared death. I thought that there had to be something more. Something more than scripture and discipline. I wanted to be alive, but also to live."

"And the answer you've reached is what, exactly?" Miko asks, utterly unassuming.

"It's a process."

"I knew you'd say that." Miko says bitterly.

"My work paves way for change in the world. Change for many individuals. So they may find peace and acknowledge their own spiritual potential… and be free from the pain and suffering of this world." Byakuren sees in Miko's eyes how she listens carefully. It's strange, but not as unfamiliar as it once may have been. Their relationship has already changed, in the past weeks, months and years. Miko thinks, earnestly taking in her words but her expression colors with a strange sadness.

"I understand. There's value in that… I suppose." Nirvana, ascension; the delivery from all worldly suffering. "But I want to live in the present, Hijiri." Ascension can only occur after many, many lifetimes' worth of discipline.

"What is the present but the accumulative past, a pretense to the future?" It's all connected; Byakuren is convinced of nothing else.

"You're quite the woman, Hijiri." Miko looks straight at her, and eye to eye her gaze is intimidating, captivating. "I've never met anyone quite like you. You're beautiful. You're smart. You infuriate me. The way you act and the things you say, which are all so profound, and ring so true yet… they are quite banal. Your strength and your resilience infuriate me, too. Though most infuriating of all is how you're… always on my mind." Miko spills it all like a confession, her words spoken as if rehearsed, as if read from a script she has studied and memorized. "And unlike you I can't ignore the things right in front of me forever." Brazen and unafraid, Miko is before her, until she isn't, shuddering under the surface from an invisible and unknowable force. Byakuren sits unanimated until Miko adverts her gaze and stares at the streets down below, the humans outside which shuffle past in the piling snow as it falls harder. It occurs to her then. Byakuren's unchanging expression remains, but her heart seems to shudder too, for she knows that she is the bearer of the invisible force which has made Miko crack.

"Which is to say?"

"I'm not sure yet," Miko lies. "I'm not… sure."

Neither of them have eaten much. Only words seem to fill their mouths. Words and alcohol, in Miko's case. Byakuren wishes to be truthful, too. Maybe then Miko wouldn't have to look so torn. 

By evening, it has started to snow harder. They walk side by side once more, on the roads that lead from town. Silence, and yet Byakuren feels her feelings swelling. The gate by the temple is abandoned, but she hardly notices. Miko stares at the ground. It is the beginning of a strange goodbye. Stranger than the last, and yet Byakuren hardly dislikes it. "I'll be back, Hijiri." Miko says with unquestionable certainty.

They look at one another, joined in a feeling neither of them yet have the conviction to voice, much less act on. "I'll wait for you." Byakuren promises. "Gladly."

When Miko turns around to leave, flipping her cape in the evening breeze, Byakuren watches her until she has disappeared from sight, grappling with what she knows is to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little late, but here's the final chapter! Happy New Year everyone! :)

The sermon hall is cold, quiet and still despite the many, many individuals packed into it. The smell of incense is diminished by the sheer cold of the winter months, the dusty, ashy aroma thinning in the breezy rooms of the temple. Byakuren sits in the back, by the door. The sun sets quietly, slowly, over the course of the evening before the sermon even starts; a story of resilience, camaraderie and leadership told to honor the foundation of their temple. Byakuren listens with waning interest despite it all. She's heard Shou rehearse it over and over from beyond the thin walls of her bedroom. She knows how she and Nazrin have discussed the edits, the embellishments, the approximate truths of the simplified events, and their great lord Bishamonten's role in it all. It has been the backdrop to her own swimming thoughts in the past days, as she lay awake in bed waiting for sleep. Long it has been since she pondered quite like this. Long it has been since she felt her heart rush; not since she first saw Gensoukyou's skies, not since she first reunited with her friends, not since she first rode the motorbike in a high-speed chase though the air; but even that is all different; different matters entirely. Now, she listens to Shou's sermon only seemingly, her attention instead held by something else altogether. She lets her eyes wander to the open door across the hall. Outside, it snows, gently.

Promises are meant to be held. Miko was testing Byakuren's trust. It was a first time occurrence; it hadn't happened since Miko had come to gain that trust. While unpredictable at times, at her core, Miko always lived true to herself. Thus, Byakuren could usually guess what she might say or how she might act. However, she'd grown somewhat confused. Miko had come to surprise her more and more. What else, Byakuren had also surprised herself.

More visitors spill in from outside, quietly, sneaking in and settling in the back rows. Gentle, excited whispers indicate that the stories of bravery and friendship and virtue from the distant past resonate with the youkai and the humans alike. Byakuren can easily imagine Nazrin's smug, pleased face in her spot in the front row. It's a rather windy evening. When the doors rattle and the icy wind filters through the walls, the onlookers shudder with anticipation, the effects enhancing Shou's tense story-telling. A strong gust of wind catches the open door. The sliding door squeals and rattles just a bit too loud, threatening to slide shut on its rail. If Shou has noticed, she hasn't paused. Ichirin casts her head around, and Byakuren meets her gaze. Byakuren gets up, quietly, without a noise, without even her clothes rustling, and makes her way towards the door to secure it in place, creeping along the wall. Her hand on the backdoor, only one forceful tug is enough to set it back in place without complaint. The squealing stops. Slowly, she casts her head around once more. Outside, the stars have come alight. The year is ending. Byakuren sneaks a glance behind her, over her shoulder. Ichirin has returned her focus to the sermon. Rows and rows of backs, familiar and unfamiliar, line the room. For once, no one is watching. Her thoughts silencing, Byakuren steps outside, out of sight. She walks away, out under the bare sky, the wind in her hair. Something lifts from her chest, her shoulders, and she breathes the fresh air. The great dark beyond greet her goodnight. By the gate, late and merry temple goers spill in. Byakuren stays put in the shadow of the temple wall, neglecting to greet them, spending her time alone with the accumulative anticipation of midnight. She thinks about Miko, again, and wonders about her promise. When she once more hears voices, she strays from the backdoor, towards the back, behind the temple, past the houses, to the route leading to the graveyard, the path already covered in a fresh layer of snow.

She stares past the gates. The thoughts that form only seem to float away. A sigh builds in her chest, calling to be released. A loud rustle from above makes her heart stop. She forgets it all, immediately. Snow cascades from the branches on a tree on the other side of the wall. With her legs down on the side of a thick branch, Miko's sat down after landing, the tree shaking under her delicate weight. Byakuren stares at her, and Miko stares back, her expression high-strung, flustered in a sweet manner so unsuited for her it makes Byakuren burst into laughter, her sigh forgotten. "G-good," she manages to collect herself swiftly. "Good evening, Miss Miko."

"Likewise, Hijiri." Miko looks the other way.

"Why, I thought you wouldn't come." Byakuren admits, earnestly and happily.

"Were you waiting for me?" Miko asks with a funny gleam to her eye and smug smile, her pride evidently recovering swiftly.

"I suppose I was." Byakuren admits, still coming down from her surprise and wonder. "You sure managed to surprise me, though."

"Oh. Well, that was not my intention…" Miko admits, brushing snow off her robes; multilayered, colorful, rich in royal purpur, gold, orange and peach-colored hues. The cape over her shoulders, embroidered and ornate, reaches far below the branch where she sits. Byakuren notes the snowflakes in her hair.

"How long have you been out here?" She asks without thinking, her wonder genuine enough to simply jump out on its own.

"A while…" Miko admits reluctantly. "I was uh… surveying… the circumstances." Delightfully awkward and unconvincing, Miko is the same as Byakuren herself. It's a simple and nostalgic sentimentality that seizes her, and Byakuren smiles oh so mildly.

"Why, thank you for coming. For keeping your promise."

"You're welcome…" Miko struggles to be sincere, but she tries, amicably.

"You can come on down, and we'll have a chat."

"Hm." Uncertain, Miko thinks. She cannot seem to look directly at Byakuren no more. "I didn't come here to attend the temple's sermon or the usual… pleasantries."

"Oh, I'm well aware." Byakuren admits. She glances behind her. The sermon should be over soon, and then people will be wandering around the temple grounds. An idea starts to form. "What do you say, how about we take a stroll?"

"A stroll?" Miko asks, still seated on the branch just above the walls. She's amused and confused by Byakuren's suggestion. "You suggest I steal you away from the temple on New Year's Eve?" She continues, marking how absurd it indeed would be.

Byakuren meets her gaze with overwhelming earnesty. "Only if you insist."

Miko understands. She may have her way, but only if she is ready to commit. For a moment, she visibly ponders, though the question is not in regard to her choice or will. She is thinking of what to say to the woman before her; how to meet her head on and match her. Miko stands, and redeeming herself of her previous act of clumsiness, she breaches the gap between the branch and the wall with one quick, nimble leap. Byakuren holds out her hand, and Miko takes it. Miko's hand is warm despite the cold, despite her body of steel and precious metals, despite her only faintly lingering humanity, courtesy of how her soul resides in this realm only as a result of forbidden magics. In her grip, Byakuren feels the warmth of her own hand. It is a warmth which she has nurtured for centuries. She sees Miko, in which she sees herself. She admitted to it before, but it only becomes clearer and clearer. The image is crisp to her now. The waters have calmed, the storm and the wind have died, and on the surface she sees Miko's face reflected. They are alike, one and the same. As long as she has lived, Byakuren knows she has never quite felt this way before, ever.

Now, they have breached the gap. Byakuren had extended her hand, and Miko had taken it. Now, they were standing on the same side, together.

Miko's feet land soundlessly in the soft snow, her feet imprinting on the ground. She inhales to speak. A door opens somewhere behind them. Indeed, the sermon is over. The sound of footsteps leave no room for doubt. People are coming this way. Byakuren squeezes Miko's hand—which still sits in her own—tightly in an iron grip, and takes off, away from the graveyard entrance, along the far wall. They stop, hidden behind the building, and Byakuren peeks behind the corner. Miko, holding her hand, pulls her in the direction they were headed. "Let me take you away from here. From all the bustle and nosy onlookers."

"Oh, so now you intend to lead the way?" Byakuren asks, amused. "How bold."

"You know me. I'm bold." Miko says, smiling. "Now, come on. Be stolen away with me, like you said." She tugs at her hand and Byakuren laughs, faintly, trying to be quiet and remain hidden out of sight. "I'll take you over the wall and into the forest. Away from your containment."

"Alright, Miss Miko. Take me away," Byakuren plays along, and Miko does indeed hold her hand, and lead her, steps fast and doubtless, Byakuren rushing after her. Miko hears it before Byakuren does, stopping again abruptly along the wall. Byakuren crashes into her, her face buried in her fluffy hair. Then, the door just in front of them opens. Stressed, Miko gently gives Byakuren a shove to the side.

"Hm?" Nazrin acknowledges Miko with a confused hum. Byakuren can easily imagine her puzzled but detached expression from out of view.

"Oh." Miko sounds equally surprised. "Why hello. Happy new year."

"It's not the new year yet." Nazrin says, pointedly. "And I'm not sure exactly what it is that you're doing here… but most of the temple's residents wouldn't look kindly to you of all people sneaking around."

"Why, how… presumptuous of you. I'm not sneaking." Miko says with a convincing smile. Nervously giggly like she hasn't been in years, Byakuren tries to stay quiet. "Why, I was just leaving. I came to see the sermon but I heard it was just over."

"Yeah. Sorry. It ended just now." Nazrin says, indulging Miko by pretending to believe in her story. "You just missed it."

"That's too bad. But why, I'll be taking my leave."

"I thought you might want to talk to Hijiri but I guess not." Nazrin said, smugly and knowingly.

"Oh! Sure. But I'll have ample time for that next year, anyhow." Byakuren looks down at her feet. A mouse, smaller than the inside of her palm, sits by her feet, sniffing the bared ground left by her footsteps. She smiles nervously. The mouse looks up at her.

"I bid you farewell. And tell Hijiri a happy new year when you see her."

"Right." Nazrin says, very clear she's not intending to uphold any such silly promise. "Bye." Intent on minding her own business, Nazrin slides the door shut, despite her original intention to leave through it. The door clicks into place and Byakuren exhales.

Miko turns to her and speaks to her in a whisper as she slips her top robe off her shoulders out from under her cape, "here." The fabric flutters in the wind and flies up high. Miko places it down over Byakuren's head, the fabric falling down on her shoulders. "Now, we should be able to head out over here…" Grabbing the hems from inside the robe, Byakuren feels the soft, thick weaved fabric. She feels a faint flowery scent, something like a faded incense or dried, pressed flower. Again, Miko holds out her hand. Byakuren takes it, her heart rising in her chest, and they take off, excitement bubbling under the surface, brimming and threatening to overflow. Voices are pouring from the front yard, and Byakuren hears the first ringing of the temple bell sounding and resonating between the walls inside the temple grounds. Byakuren's mind shifts, and she is yet again in a new place. She watches Miko's shoulders, feels the warmth of her hand. The year is ending. Their feet carry them towards the wall. The bells rings again, the deep, hollow sound echoing inside her chest.

Miko scales the wall in one swift jump. Byakuren looks up at her before throwing her head around. She sees people moving about between the wall and the building. She thinks not of remaining. For years and years, she's spent this most important day in the temple. Just this one time, she would not play her role as head nun, and instead celebrate elsewhere. She leaps, flying through the air, onto the wall, and with Miko's hand in her own, they descend on the other side, together, rushing through the woods to the sound of the ringing bell, it's loud and heavy sound reverberating through the dark night.

Excited and embarrassed, Byakuren lets out a laugh. Her tensions fly away with the wind. The bell rings. She is being cleansed. Miko still holds her hand. Though smaller and softer than her own, Byakuren feels how strong her fingers are and how doubtlessly firm the grip forms around her hand. The snow lays pristine in the woods, blanketing the ground. The wind filters through her clothes but her body feels warm. She can still smell Miko's scent on the fabric of her robes. The tree trunks pass them, one by one, again and again their thin and dark trunks stretching towards the sky, branches burdened by the weight of the heavy snowfall. The bell rings.

They slow, and with rousing emotion, Byakuren exhales. Miko turns to look at her and in the white moonlight her golden eyes shine. "You seem rather excitable." They both know it's not the first time, not quite. They both tend to get excitable. When they duel, when they argue, when they clash or when they cooperate on their shifting terms. "Why, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, I feel splendid." Byakuren admits, without hindrance or shame. "Why, Miss Miko, you've made me feel like a little girl." Miko smiles strangely, as if she cannot fully believe it. Byakuren's heart aches sweetly. "And I love the scent of your robe."

"Seiga gave me that perfume." Miko admits, averting her eyes. Their fingers are only loosely intertwined. "It's a bit… gaudy."

"I like it." Byakuren says. "It compliments you well."

"In that case, I'm glad." Miko says. "I thought you might." Her smile cracks, widening. Byakuren laughs once more. Her laughter rings true, but diminishes. Byakuren opens her eyes, and sees Miko looking at her, her smile having faded, the light in her eyes snuffed out. The shadow of a large tree engulfs them in their walk through the forest. The bell rings, in the distance.

"What's the matter?" Byakuren asks, quietly, her question sincerely concerned.

Miko scoffs, faintly. Her mouth twitches and despite her cold eyes, Byakuren sees that she is sad, her moods shifting rapidly. "I've been looking forward to tonight Hijiri. I have." She says, sincerely, bitterly. "Though, we both know, this is, too, a mirage. Isn't it?"

"Is it?" Byakuren asks, seriously.

"You're not as naive as you pretend to be. We both know that." Miko asserts. "We'll laugh and make merry. You'll hold my hand, and I'll see how beautiful you are when you smile. And we'll talk, we'll converse… like friends, or even… lovers. But it's all pretend. Isn't it?"

"You hurt me," Byakuren says, caught up in Miko's feelings, ensnared by them like how their fingers still lay intertwined. "Why would you assume I'm being anything but sincere? We've… we've come further than that. Haven't we?"

"Have we?" Miko asks, and not to insult her sentiment. When she meets her gaze, Byakuren sees without a doubt, Miko's sincere wonder. "I can't help but still hear it. A dissonance." They stop, their steps ending in this place, just past the large shadow, just under the bare light of the moon. The bell chimes. "We will enjoy tonight. Maybe even some time into the new year. Then, something new will occur. A disagreement. Between you and me, between our allies. And we'll argue again. And I'll resent you, and you me."

"Miss Miko, I certainly don't know the future." Byakuren says assuredly. "But I know, from the life I've lived, that if two people truly do care for one another, they'll understand one another. We'll never agree on everything." Miko looks at her, and however subtly, she is surprised to hear Byakuren admit it. "I know as much. But for that, we don't have to resent one another." She smiles. "Why, you've already changed since I first met you. And I know… that I have changed as well."

"Perhaps…" Miko admits, quietly, the sadness in her breaching the surface. A smile faintly comes to her face. "I do recall how… unreasonable you used to be."

"Oh, aren't I still?"

"I do like… how stubborn you are." Miko says. "Otherwise, how would I keep coming back?"

"You are quite stubborn yourself." Byakuren replies. She tightens the grip on Miko's hand. "Which is why… I'm not worried at all."

Miko smiles once more, full and true, as confidently as she usually does. "Perhaps there's something to that line of reasoning…" The bell chimes. They walk through the forest, and as badly as she wants to, it gets harder for Byakuren to look Miko in the eye. She seems to shudder with faint, underlying excitement. "You say you're not worried." Miko reaffirms. "Though we won't get much of anywhere unless we press onwards."

"Are you scared?" Byakuren asks her question before she knows it, and she realizes she's already wondered for a long time. "You did lie about Miss Futo, didn't you?" She adds, however gently. "The person who has been depressed is… you, isn't it?"

Miko does not look at her, her face turned away and towards the moon. The clouds travel swiftly across the night sky. "I did lie. I realized you may figure." She sighs, bothered. "It was foolish. You do… know me better now than you used to." Miko meets her eyes once more. Byakuren sighs, too, sweetly.

"I hope you feel better." Byakuren says. "It's not easy to live with a weary heart."

"I've been so bored." Miko complains. "I came to you… because either you would have an answer for me… or you wouldn't, but then I'd at least have an excuse to talk to you." She admits to her plan, not embarrassed in the slightest. "Because you see, speaking to you always seems to take my mind off of things…"

"I see!" Byakuren replies, "why, I could say the same."

"It is a blessing." Miko admits. "When nothing quite seems to… catch your interest. To have something… which sparks a light in your heart."

Byakuren pauses, and she seems to understand yet again. The bell chimes. She is surprised, astonished in a way she hardly thought she'd ever be. She tears her eyes from Miko's face. She's flattered. When was she last the object of someone's sincere affections? Her words from before only seem to ring truer and truer. "That makes me glad." She says, not quite ready to let on exactly how much she means those words.

"Though… perhaps that is why it pains me. When it feels like I will never know the true you."

"You if anyone should know me." Byakuren says, surprised.

"I want to know you with your own words, formed by your lips." Miko says, insisting. "I want to know what you're thinking."

"I have been nothing but honest with you." Byakuren holds her hand. The bell chimes.

"Truly, have you?" Miko asks her, pressing her. "What are you thinking, then? What are you thinking right now?"

"I told you didn't, I?" Byakuren says quite sweetly. She could still smell the scent of Miko's robe. "How you've made me feel tonight."

"You have." Miko says, acknowledging her words. "But what else? I want to know more. Do you think of me? Do you wish to speak to me?" Miko presses her. "Do you miss me whenever we haven't spoken in a few days' time?"

"I do." Byakuren admits truthfully. The moonlight pours around them in the white forest. She pulls Miko's hand and steps closer. Miko's breath is like mist in the air. She looks away, her brow knitting. "I do think of you."

"You do," Miko repeats. "Do you?" She's troubled despite getting the answer she wanted. "You think of me, miss me, long for me?"

"Yes."

"As I do for you?" Miko asks, firmly, turning to let the moonlight hit her back and her eyes pierce Byakuren's gaze. "Do your feelings resonate with mine?"

"Why don't you tell me, Miss Miko?" Byakuren asks, gently. "For if you listen, I'm sure you'll be able to tell."

The wind had gone silent for them. The snow dampens the sound of the already quiet night. Byakuren takes another step forward. Before Miko, she stands, awaiting her judgement, to be seen and heard. She exhales, and only her breath on the wind obscures the sight of Miko's face, as she meets her gaze with earnest wonder and sharpened concentration. Miko lets go of Byakuren's hand. The bell chimes in the distance, again and again the hollow, deep sound reminds them of the fleetingness of this single passing moment. How long they've lived, and yet, they cannot escape the flow of time. Miko raises her hands, and then, Byakuren knows, gripped by surprise and wonder. Miko slides her earmuffs off her ears, gently, but without hesitation. It is an unexpected and unknown form of intimacy. Miko watches her, and Byakuren wavers. She closes her eyes. Miko draws close to her. Byakuren can feel the warmth of her breath rush through the air and onto her face. The fabric of Miko's robe is over her shoulders, and as she feels Miko's warm hand brush her heavy, long hair off her chest and behind her shoulder, Byakuren exhales slowly once more. She has a wish, her imagination drawing pictures in her mind and sensations on her skin. Miko must know, surely; she can hear it, loud and clear, doubtlessly. Nervous like she's hardly been in forever, Byakuren remains calm.

She has long given Miko permission, imagined it and believed she may know how it feels before it happens. When Miko's lips overlay with her own, she still struggles to believe it. They kiss. It is a frail and youthful kiss. Byakuren feels Miko's hand gently under her chin. She leans down to meet her but the kiss ends. Miko has pulled away. A tense moment of nothing but wonder shatters within seconds. Byakuren opens her eyes, and beyond her eyelids, Miko's gaze calls her in. They kiss, again, lips connecting hurriedly, in something akin to passion. The cold air seems even colder still with their warm lips connected, and Byakuren feels it burn her skin. The bell chimes. Miko's hand runs through her hair and Byakuren pulls her close, into her arms. May they argue or clash again in the future, but for certain, she will never forget this moment, nor this feeling of simple joy and rousing excitement. So long, she has lived, fought and worked hard for her place in this world. She has since joined the ranks of a lucky selected few, to live here, in this sealed off paradise of sorts. Byakuren gave up her humanity long ago, but already before then she had discarded her sense of personal and private joy. She catches glimpses of it, from time to time. In Gensoukyou, why it is so much easier to find the time to see it, to yearn for it. She knows why she was barred from working on new year's eve this year. Her friends wanted her to rest, to look after herself, to live selfishly for the last few days of the year. Oh, she thought she couldn't do it. It seemed so hard. Now, Miko's lips are on her own. In the distance, the bell chimes. What once seemed impossible, has now happened. What once seemed so far is now so close. Miko's body is warm in her arms, and her scent, so strong and sweet. Byakuren knows that she can hear her heartbeat, and feel the shapes of her desires as if they were her own.

The bell chimes. There's a distant sound of cheering voices, from the village, from the mountains. They part. Silence follows. As they lock eyes, Miko slowly lowering herself down to stand on the heels of her feet and Byakuren straightening her back, her arms still around Miko's body and Miko's hand still caressing her hair, the bell chimes no more. The year is over. A new has started. Byakuren's lips break into a fragile smile. She blushes, her eyes averting shyly from Miko's sharp gaze. "I'm sorry..." she apologizes. "If I kissed you strangely. Why, it's been so long… since anyone kissed me." Byakuren admits, in a bout of painful yet sweet sincerity. The centuries have passed her by so fast. Now she recalls, freshly and vividly, how it feels to be young and awkward, and in love.

"That's odd. For I can think of many reasons… to kiss you." Miko says to her, chasing her gaze, her hand reaching to caress her face.

"Miss Miko… you're making me blush." Byakuren faintly laughs, the pouring sound coloring her voice.

"Good." Miko says firmly, proudly. To her, it is a fine accomplishment. "It's a pleasant sight."

It is a new year; a new realm of possibilities. Byakuren thinks little of it. She mostly thinks of the way Miko's body feels in her arms, and the way her lips draw her in once more.


End file.
